


By Your Side

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: Some Christmas traditions may not be what they seem, but it doesn't really matter.





	By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the prompt "Spices" for the Evakteket SKAMenger hunt.
> 
> I almost decided to use the tag "fluff" for the first time in my life for this - gasp!
> 
> Enjoy!

He has no idea where he is when he wakes up.

Not the familiarity of their bedroom – the light is different, brighter, and the sounds of Even’s deep breathing seem closer, somehow, like they’re captured inside a smaller space than usual.

Blinking his eyes open, he understands why – the ceiling of Even’s childhood bedroom a mere metre up above, the wooden bars of his bunk bed sealing them off in a cave of sorts.

It’s been some time since he slept here, probably at least half a year. But last night had kind of called for it.

He burrows closer to Even’s sleep-heavy, heated body, and is met with a whiff of saffron, of cinnamon, ginger and something else that he can’t really place. Plus, a faint hint of Even’s shampoo. 

Digging his nose in a little deeper into the hair at the nape of Even’s neck, he can feel it’s still slightly damp at the roots. A reminiscence of the last night’s unexpected fever that prompted them to stay the night after the yearly pre-Christmas baking session at Even’s parents. 

Even insists that it’s a family tradition. 

Isak isn’t so sure about that. Nonetheless, he recognizes what Even’s trying to do – to replace Isak’s own non-existent adolescent Christmas memories with pleasant ones. Or, maybe not replace them, but at least extend the number of experiences to choose from.

Isak hasn’t called him out on it, however – there’s no need to. Not really.

Even’s lower back is still laden with a thin sheen of sweat when Isak lets his hand slip under his t-shirt, stroking along his side. Not enough to wake him, just to make him grunt in his sleep, stir a little, and give out a long, low exhale.

As Even moves a little on the pillow, another fragrant whiff hits Isak’s nose – and when he lifts his head, he sees why. A chunk of dried-up gingerbread dough, tousled into a tuft of hair behind Even’s ear. 

It doesn’t smell bad, though. And he doesn’t want to wake Even, so he leaves it be. For now.

Even if it’s just a fever this time, it’s still natural to him, now, almost like breathing. Being attuned to Even’s need for sleep, to his energy level. It’s not a thing he even thinks about anymore. 

And it’s not always a sacrifice. Sometimes, he can even get things done while Even sleeps a few days off. Get the studying he’s put off out of the way, clean the kitchen thoroughly – at least, he tries to think of pulling the stove out and vacuuming behind it as a good thing – or just practice his CoD skills. 

Not that it beats being with Even. But moments like these – when he can wrap his arm around his slender side, splay his hand out across his chest to feel his heart beating underneath the crumpled, half-damp t-shirt – it’s pretty okay.

He can’t take his eyes off that little piece of dough, though. 

It does smell nice, but… it’s still there. 

Maybe, if he’d use his other hand to hold on to the hair beneath it, he’d be able to pull it out without waking Even up. 

Or, even better: he leans in, and closes his mouth around the small crusty piece. 

It doesn’t taste as good as it smells, though – much too sweet, less spicy, and now there’s hair in his mouth, and – 

“Isak?” Even’s voice is gravelly, confused, as he turns his head towards him. “What – baby?”

He sputters around the hairs dragging across his lips, as Even’s face comes up in front of him, his nose a mere inch from Isak’s own. “Hft – nothing.”

Even’s still a little pale, but his eyes are clear, not glazed over like last night. His eyebrows are knotted, though, and his lips move slowly as he asks, incredulous: “Are you sucking my hair?” 

“No!” Isak rolls his eyes. “Or – well, yes, but –”

Even’s face scrunches up in a silent, newly-woken laughter, eyes nearly disappearing. “So, that’s a new one.”

“There was dough in it.” He rolls his eyes again. “Nothing like that.”

Even rolls over so that he ends up half on top of him, body still heavy from sleep. A familiar, warm weight pinning Isak into the mattress, holding him in place. “Mm.”

“M-hm.” He lifts one arm to fold it around Even’s back, the other one safely tucked under Even’s head, his temple resting on Isak’s shoulder. “Do you feel better?”

Even burrows his nose into his neck. “Much better. Weird, though. Must have been one of those half-day things. Or half-night.”

“Mm. Maybe you have a gene that makes you immune to the flu and you just get a small fever and then you’re through.”

“A good gene. To balance it out.” Even’s breath is warm against his neck.

He pulls Even closer, arms a firm circle around him, unwavering. “You know what I’m gonna say now.”

Even doesn’t fight his grip, just draws his leg up to come to rest across Isak’s thighs, before he exhales. “Yeah.”

A moment’s silence, and Even’s fingers follow the ridge of his clavicle, down under the seam of his t-shirt, and back again, along the dip below his throat, tracing the muscles up to his ear.

“I think you have some dough there,” Even says, before he scoots up and bites onto a strand of hair.

Isak jerks back in reflex, and immediately winces from the pain when a few hairs get pulled out. “Ow!  _ Even!” _

A low, content chuckle by his ear. “Shh. We’re not alone here, you know.”

“It’s nothing like that, you know,” Isak says, again, rolling his eyes.

A sharp tooth against his earlobe, and an exhale, a tingling down his spine. “No. We would never.”

“Never.” Isak grins. “And you’re sick, remember?”

He can feel Even smile against his temple. “Yeah. Very sick. Completely down and out.”

“I can see that.” He turns, rolling Even onto his back, and now it’s Isak’s weight on top of him instead. He looks down at Even; teeth sharp at the corners of his smile, his hair a mess on the pillow, cheeks red, his eyes hopeful, bright with anticipation. “I might need to take care of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://irazor.tumblr.com)!


End file.
